Four Seasons
by WritingOnTheStars
Summary: Seasons change, and so do people. Four couples find happiness after the war. Drabble collection. Cycle complete.
1. Summer

**Summer : Ron and Hermione  


* * *

**

She was distinctly upset, and he had no idea why. Again.

Their relationship seemed to work like that: Hermione would get angry, he would be confused, they would get into a row, they would make-up. Lather, rinse, repeat.

Not that he minded. Ron watched her frizzy brown head bobble around in the garden, strings of curses escaping her lips that he was sure she had learned from Ginny. The exhaustion from his Auror training was calling him up to his room, but he was very much in love with the grumbling witch, and it seemed to give him an extra burst of energy.

So instead of tromping up to his bed, he rounded the corner of the garden to find Hermione bent over flower bed, wand in one hand and trowel in another. He instantly saw the source of her frustration - the flowers were behaving oddly, winding around one another and wilting and generally looking worse for wear.

He remembered the conversation at breakfast that morning between his mother and Hermione -

"_Molly?" she said, stumbling over the word. His mother had insisted that Hermione call her by her first name, since she would be family eventually (which caused Ron to choke on his orange juice)._

"_Yes, dear?" she asked from the sink._

"_Would you mind if I tinkered around in the garden?"_

_His mother turned and gave Hermione a curious look, raising her eyebrow. It was common knowledge that the young woman would much rather be curled up with a book than doing yard work. "Of course not, dear. But if I might ask, whatever for?"_

_She bit her lip in what Ron recognized as a nervous habit, pushing her scrambled eggs around on her plate. "I've been staying here for a while now," she said softly. "I just wanted to repay the favor."_

"_Nonsense!" his mother cried, turning to the table where he an Hermione were eating. "You're no burden, and I want you to consider this a second home!" She rounded on the two of them and wrapped one arm around each of their shoulders. "I'm very glad to have you here," she whispered throatily, and Ron had a flashback to when they left to find the Horcruxes two summers ago._

_Snapping herself back, his mum moved away and beamed at the two of them. "But dear, if you want to tinker around in that garden, you're more than welcome. Heaven knows it could use a good pruning every now and again!"_

Apparently gardening wasn't as easy as Hermione's books had implied. She was sweating and her bare shoulders would be sunburned in the morning, and she was still the most beautiful thing he'd ever seen.

"Hey," he called softly, causing her to drop her trowel and turn her wand on him.

He held up his hands in mock surrender and she sighed. "Sorry, Ron," she muttered, standing and brushing the dirt form her knees. A weary smile crossed her face as she approached and then he had his arms full of Hermione. "How was training?"

"Difficult," he groaned. "It gets worse everyday. Not to say I don't enjoy it," he supplied. "It's more fun than working in the shop with George. But Harry is much more of a natural than I am."

Her hand came up and ruffled through his hair, pushing it off of his forehead gently. "You're good at different things," she assured, and he believed her. It had taken time, but he was finally over his jealousy of his best friend. Just a month ago Ginny had commended him on finally maturing past the toddler phase. The next day he and Harry had charmed her room so that everything was stuck to the ceiling. Of course, Harry got the punishment for that one, but he told Ron later that the look on Ginny's face when she saw their handiwork was completely worth losing a month of snogging.

"And how's the gardening going?"

Her eyes quickly became icy and he instantly regretted his words. But after a moment she just sighed and gazed back at the unruly patch of vegetation. "I'm thinking about calling Neville over, so he can at least fix what I messed up." Backing away from him, she kneeled by the plot once again, picking up her trowel deftly.

He squatted down behind her, his hands on her shoulders. "You can't be good at everything, you know."

"I know!" she replied angrily, though he knew it wasn't focused at him. "I just want to be more well rounded. I know so many theories and rules and definitions, but sometimes it's difficult for me to apply them effectively. I passed my Herbology N.E.W.T with flying colors, but I can't even prune a garden properly!" Tears were swimming in her eyes, and he wrapped his arms around her waist.

"Come off it, 'Mione. You're one of the brightest witches of our time." She turned to look at him out of the corner of her eye, and he could feel the blush rising on his face. "If it takes you a little while longer than normal to get something right, no one will think any less of you."

She huffed, but leaned back against him lightly. "They look horrid, don't they?" she asked.

For a moment he thought about lying, but just then one of the begonias began smashing it's flowers against the ground. "Yeah," he sighed as pink petals burst into the air.

They both started laughing and he felt his heart swelling with a feeling he had started identifying specifically with Hermione. The moment was interrupted when a resounding boom of thunder crackled above their heads and the clouds broke open with a flash of lightening. Rain pounded against their heads and the suicidal begonia calmed itself.

Hermione stood and began running for the door, but Ron grabbed her wrist. A chapter from 'Twelve Fail-Safe Ways to Charm Witches' came back to him suddenly. "Dance with me?" he asked, hoping that Hermione wouldn't think him a complete nutter for wanting to say out in the storm.

Instead of scoffing, she flushed a pretty pink and came back to his arms. "Ron," she affectionately mutter, and he twirled her around the garden.

"For the dance we never got to have at the Yule Ball," he said, a grin on his face.

She tilted her head back and laughed, and Ron knew at that moment that they were still growing into their relationship, but he wouldn't trade any of it (laughs, fights, tears, or snogs) for the world.


	2. Autumn

**Autumn : Neville and Hannah

* * *

**

She knew where to find him (really, Neville was very predictable), but that didn't make actually approaching him any easier.

It was that day of the month, and their relationship was so new that Hannah was afraid. Maybe he would rather just be alone? Perhaps he would seek her out when he needed her?

But Hannah decided that she would go to him. It was too much for one person to shoulder, she knew, though he hadn't invited her to go with him to St. Mungo's. Visiting his parents tore him apart. From what she had heard, death was better than what the Longbottoms currently suffered.

Sighing, she hung her apron up behind the bar and nodded to Tom. The old man leaned over the counter and waved her over. "Hannah, love," he whispered, "you go find that boy and cheer him up with that special light you've got, alright?"

Hannah smile and patted Tom's hand affectionately. "You're alright, you know that?"

Laughter echoed behind her as she stepped into the fire and said "Longbottom Residence!" clearly. Hannah had never been very fond of using the Floo, but she was even less fond of Disapparation. After spinning through the grate system for an endless moment, she appeared in the now familiar living room of Neville's home.

"Who is it?" a harsh voice croaked from the kitchen.

"It's just me, Mrs. Longbottom!"

Augusta Longbottom hoppled into the room and gave Hannah a cool smile (which was an improvement from her normal scowl, though Hannah had a feeling that the woman liked her more than she put on). "Hannah," she said in greeting. "He's out back."

She sighed, and Mrs. Longbottom put a comforting hand on her shoulder. "He'll be dealing with this for the rest of his life. I believe it will get easier with time, now that he has you."

Hannah was shocked at the outright compliment from the stern woman, and nodded, feeling the flush on her already rosy face. "Thank you."

She just nodded and returned to the kitchen, which Hannah took as a signal to go to Neville. Just like always, he was sitting on the veranda behind his house that overlooked his normally immaculate gardens, now withering and preparing for the death of the winter. His elbows were on the railing and his face was in his hands, though she knew he wasn't crying.

When you've lost something as important as a parent, the grief is beyond tears.

So she approached quietly and stood beside him, waiting patiently for him to acknowledge her presence. They were quiet for some time, and she looked everywhere but his slouched form - huge pumpkins were the only things still in bloom, and she thought about making some enchanted jack-o-lanterns to put in the Leaky Cauldron for Halloween.

Neville straightened, but didn't look her in the eyes. Even from his profile, he looked completely spent. "Hello, Hannah," he muttered.

"Hi."

They were silent again, but this time she reached out and took his hand. A small smile tugged at his lips, and he laced their fingers together. "It's the same, every time." His eyes were weary, but he looked decidedly less pale than last month. "They have no idea who I am. They…" he muttered, casting his gaze down, "they just stare at the wall."

Carefully, as though not to frighten him, she pulled herself closer and leaned her head against his shoulder. At first he tensed, and she wondered if it was too soon. But then he wrapped his arms around her and pulled her into an embrace so warm and loving that it left her speechless.

"Thank you, Hannah," he muttered against her hair. "Even when we were in school, you've always known exactly what I needed."

A furious blush crossed her face as she leaned her heated skin against his neck. "I'm just that kind of person. Hufflepuff, you know."

Neville pulled back gently, and he saw a sparkle in his eyes that made her pulse pound. "No, you're Hannah Abbott."

And she understood. Perhaps they weren't the heroes of the story, but they were just as important, especially to one another. They weren't solely houses or titles either - they were themselves. A light feeling of joy bubbling in her chest brought her a huge grin, and she was elated to see it reflected on his face.

As they kissed in the autumn breeze, she knew that this would be forever.


	3. Winter

**Winter : Draco and Luna

* * *

**

Snow was beautiful.

Draco had always held an appreciation for the finer things in life - including fine dining, architecture and women - so it wasn't shocking that he found himself standing in the perfect snow-covered courtyard behind the Malfoy manor.

An area that had held beautiful flowers in his youth (his mother hated manual labor, but she loved gardening) was now dead, and he had felt a little part of himself die as well as he watched the plants wither throughout the season. Now he couldn't see the dead corpses of the flowers and it was easier to forget that he had once had delusions of happiness in this cold place.

He continued to watch the snow fall, allowing his mind to drift. It was a serene feeling, until a snowball came out of nowhere and pelted him on the side of the head. Draco stood very still, the quickly melting ice crystals dripping down his face and beneath his scarf, sending minute chills along his spine as it pricked the skin of his neck. A soft giggle met his ears and he wasn't surprised when he was tackled from behind and sent sprawling into the calmly accumulating white fluff.

"Luna," he groaned into the snow, prompting the younger girl to roll off of his back. Sometimes he questioned his decision to let Luna Lovegood into his life, but when she showed up one day with a basket full of muffins and a cork necklace for him, he couldn't very well turn her away.

Because they were both incredibly lonely, and companionship was worth dealing with a bit of crazy. Hell, he'd even began reading The Quibbler with interest rather than amusement.

"Good morning!" she greeted lightly, straightening her green and pink striped stocking cap as she stood. Draco had long ago given up trying to get her to dress normally, and now he couldn't imagine her in anything else except her wacky wardrobe.

He could easily imagine her in nothing at all, but that was a completely different train of thought.

"Morning," he grumbled, spitting snow out of his mouth. However, he was starting to regret giving her free passage to the manor.

Her probing eyes watched his every move, and he felt like he was under a microscope. But the weird part was that he didn't mind the feeling. Unlike most people who watched him, she wasn't trying to dissect him or figure out what made him tick or if he still held his family's delusions of grandeur.

It was comforting, to know that someone cared enough to watch out for him. Suddenly she hopped into the snow. And hopped. And hopped.

"What in the bloody hell are you doing?" he asked, watching her with a mixture of amusement and confusion.

She didn't mind his weird looks. "Searching for the perfect spot," she replied, as though this statement made complete sense.

"Perfect spot for what?" he probed.

Luna turned with a bemused expression, her blue eyes sparkling with child-like mischief. "Snow angels, of course!"

Crossing his arms, he continued to watch her hop around the courtyard, staring at a spot for a moment and slowly shifting her weight from one foot to another. "Have to find a spot that isn't infested with Kirrenfells, you know."

"What are those?" he asked automatically.

"Kirrenfells burrow under the snow, and if an unsuspecting person steps on them, they bite off the heels of their boots. Which would be quite uncomfortable."

"Indeed." Draco loved her faith in the most unbelievable things (say, for instance, the goodness in his heart) and had grown to think that she wasn't loony - she was free.

Finally she seemed to find a good spot, and without preamble she fell backwards on to the ground. He was concerned at the loud impact, but she was carefully waving her arms and legs, and he rolled his eyes at her theatrical antics. "You can be such a child," he admonished, plowing his way over to her spot.

"Oh, but it's so fun!" she proclaimed.

Scoffing, he adjusted his dampening scarf. "What fun is there to be had in getting all cold and snowy?"

She tilted her head, and the sunlight caught the ice in her hair, and suddenly she really did look like an angle lying there, snowy wings and all. "Well, besides the actual fun of playing in the snow, there are ways to make warming up a bit more enjoyable, with the right company."

The blush rose to his cheeks and she burst out in laughter. "You'll pay for that one, Lovegood," he growled before pouncing. All his pureblood breeding was lost as they rolled in the snow, and he felt ice in his boots and his hair and his sweater, but he could feel the smile on his face growing with every giggle that reached his ears.

Pinning her in the snow, he leaned over and kissed her heatedly. Being herself, she took this in stride and wrapped her arms around his neck, and suddenly he wasn't bothered by the snow. "I think that's enough of playing outside, yes?" she muttered against his lips.

A wicked grin crossed his face as he scooped up her frail frame, carrying her bridal style toward the manor. Though winter was frozen, Draco knew that he wouldn't be cold as long as Luna was there to light a fire in him every once in a while.


	4. Spring

**Spring : Harry and Ginny

* * *

**

She could see it clearly in her mind.

_Every swoop, every dive, every dodge – it looks rough, but it takes concentration and so much control – is right in place and right on time. She can see the other girls (women, she has to remember, she's a woman now) on either side and she can feel the Quaffle pressed against her hip, wrapped in the crook of her arm. The goal posts are glimmering halos looming in the distance, approaching with an alarming speed. _

_But no, she's the one doing the moving, she's in control. The Keeper makes eye contact (she's being underestimated again, and it sends her blood boiling) and before either of them can even contemplate taking another breath, the Quaffle is zooming through the hoop and her ears are full of the wild roar of the crowd. _

Ginny opened her eyes and took in a deep breath of the cool spring air. The practice pitch behind The Burrow was beneath her as she glided lazily around on her new broomstick. It was a Comet 340, the newest model on the market. She hadn't believed it when her parents had handed her the sparkling racing broom with her name etched in gold along the rosy wooden handle. But then again, it wasn't every day she got scouted to the Holyhead Harpies.

It was a complete and total shock. Of course, being a professional Quidditch player was a dream she'd held for years, but nothing that she had ever actually expected. After helping Gryffindor win the House Cup the previous month (and being undefeated to boot), she had been approached by none other than Gwenog Jones herself. It had taken all of Ginny's self control to not hyperventilate on the spot.

Spring was the time for new beginnings, she supposed. Hogwarts was done, her N.E.W.T.S were over (finally), and she found that she was fairly ready for anything that thought to come her way. Tomorrow was her first practice with the team. All of her initial insecurities had been replaced by excitement, and she couldn't wait to zoom on to the pitch and see the crowd, along with her family and friends, all cheering her on to victory. She swooped through one of the hoops, looping and darting around the field. The wind rippled through her mane of fiery hair and she was smiling so wide that she was sure her jaw would be sore in the morning.

Her instincts kicked in as the sound of a Quaffle flying through the sky met her ears. Without blinking she snagged it from the air, looking around deftly to find her opponent.

She didn't have to look far.

"I'd say you're ready," he called, circling her spot slowly on his broom. The lazy grin on his face matched his scruffy hair and she couldn't help but laugh.

"Yeah, I'd hope so. You and Ron have been running me through the wringer with drills all week."

Harry pulled up next to her, and under closer inspection she could see sleep pulling on his eyes. "How's the Auror training?"

"Nearly finished," he sighed, and she could hear the excitement in his tone. "The tests are in a month. I just hope I'm ready, you know?"

She rolled her eyes and punched him lightly on the shoulder. "You've been more than ready for two years now. You'll be fine."

"Yeah, I suppose." His cheeks flushed and she laughed again, angling her broom downward.

"How about we go see about supper?"

His face lit up with a look she identified as 'hungry bear mode'. "That sounds amazing. You're mum is the best cook on the planet."

"You're telling me!"

They landed and she instantly threw herself into his arms. She supposed that he was more tired than she had originally thought, because instead of keeping his balance like he normally did, they both went crashing to the ground.

Ginny quickly rolled off of him and gave him a panicked look. Instead of being injured, his eyes were sparkling like emeralds in the sunlight, good humor etched into his features. "You take my breath away," he said in a sappy tone, pretending to swoon dramatically.

Rolling her eyes, she helped him sit up. "Corny."

"Yeah. You love it."

"I love you, you mean."

For a moment he looked at her seriously, and the intensity in his eyes caused her heart to flutter against her ribs. "I love you too," he replied, holding out his hand. She took it, unsure of what exactly he had in mind. "And I'll always love you."

"Yeah…" Ginny was even more confused when he reached into the pocket of his robes and pulled out his moleskin bag. Digging around in it clumsily with one hand, he seemed to find what he was seeking.

"Look, I was going to wait, but now seems to be as good a time as any." Suddenly she had a hunch as to what he was gripping in his fist, and she couldn't breathe properly. "I know we're young, and I don't really know what your parents will say, but-"

"Yes!" she blurted out. Instantly her free hand shot up to cover her mouth, her face burning with embarrassment.

Harry looked at her blankly for a moment, and then started laughing. "I'm glad to know your answer. Makes asking a bit less stressful, I suppose." He opened up his hand. Sitting in his palm was a small silvery ring with a round yellow diamond mounted squarely in the middle.

Grinning, he slid the ring on her finger. Still in shock, all she could do was look between Harry and the ring, which under closer inspection had a delicate wing carved on to each side of the stone. It was a snitch, she realized after a moment.

"Marry me, Ginny Weasley."

And since she had already answered, all she could do was launch herself at him again. This time she wouldn't let him up so easily.

The spring winds were blowing, the sun was shining, and Ginny was ready – for a new life, as a professional Quidditch player and as Mrs. Harry Potter.


End file.
